


Truly

by hawkqirl



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Magic, Peter Parker fluff, slight angst, supehero!reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-28
Updated: 2016-12-28
Packaged: 2018-09-13 00:14:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9096763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hawkqirl/pseuds/hawkqirl
Summary: Requested by anonymous on tumblr: Okay I’ve fallen back in love with spider man after seeing CA:CW. I was wondering if maybe you could write something along the lines of you and Peter are like SO REALLY HARD IN LOVE and go to the same school and know about each other’s other identities (maybe reader has powers idk) and while Tony recruits Peter, Steve recruits you and then you guys find out you are scared it will tear you guys apart but when it’s all over its all okay. Idk just fluff and angst and idc about smut ilove ur writing+ hey i love your peter imagine and i’d love it if you could write another one? idrc what happens im such trash lol sorry i know that you’re having a bit of a block atm :/





	

The bell had just rung for the last class of the school day – Chemistry, which was, admittedly, absolutely not your strong suit.

“He–y,” a voice called out, stretching out the vowel in the word ‘hey’. “Hey, partner.” Peter Parker appeared at your side, his backpack slung over his shoulder and his chemistry book in his arm. “Wanna walk to chem together?”

“You don’t need to pretend to be my friend at school,” you grumbled underneath your breath. 

“Right, right, the whole ‘I gotta stay on the d-l because I don’t want to draw unnecessary attention to myself’ thing. I get it,” Peter said nonchalantly. “But I doubt you spending time with me outside of your…extra curricular activities will draw any attention to you. I’m a nobody!”

He had said that last sentence with an oddly chipper attitude, as though he had absolutely not a care in the world. You sighed again and rubbed your eyelids with the backs of your hands and said, “Fine. Whatever.”

“Sweet!” Peter said excitedly, and you just sucked in a deep breath as you knew that this school year would definitely be an interesting one.

You had been born to a Homo Magi couple – Homo Magi meaning that you were like humans, except for the fact that you basically had magic running through your veins, just waiting to get out. Your parents had tried to suppress your latent abilities, however, by the time you were three and had accidentally conjured up a puppy in your house simply because you had wanted one in a fleeting, mindless moment, your parents knew that they couldn’t keep you hidden from your true heritage any longer.

The Homo Magi were said to be an honorable race that grew up alongside Homo Sapiens. While it was indeed true that Homo Sapiens could learn magic on their own, but only if they paid a price for the ability, Homo Magi were naturally born with the ability over magic. Homo Magi could control magic without having the burden of needing to pay a price as a result of the usage – and, Homo Magi were just better at controlling it and its effects. There was no real limit on the Homo Magi’s magic, however there were obviously things that you were either better at or worse at when it came to technique and whatnot.

You, though, like the rest of your family lineage, were able to channel your abilities through the creation of staff’s comprised out of a portion of your own magic power. Your staff was an extension of you – you always had it with you, always on hand, for anyone or anything that could ever come out at you.

Which was how Peter discovered who, or rather, what, you were.

You had been new to the city. You and your family had been living in a small suburban town, however, once your dad had nearly got caught for using his abilities when it came to his side job as a magician, you and your family packed up and moved to New York City, where you could remain anonymous and stay lost in the crowds and crowds of people. 

Your family had always warned you to keep your head low; to not use your abilities and remain as normal as you possibly could.

That had went to shit when, on the first day of school, your bag had gotten stolen like that usual dumb cliché, and you were left yelling after the guy for a few good seconds before you had waved a hand in the guy’s direction and forced him to come back and return your bag to you.

You had thought that no one was around, that no one would see you.

You had really thought that no one would see you.

But, no. That dumb fuck Peter Parker just had to be there because of his “spidey senses” that had just so happened to sense that you were in some sort of trouble.

(You were not.)

He had decided to take it upon himself to walk with you to school because he saw it as an opportunity to talk to you about what had just happened.

(You didn’t want to talk about it.)

He took it upon himself to become your friend.

(You did not need friends.)

He was, unfortunately, in a majority of your classes and decided to be your “study buddy”.

(You didn’t want a study buddy.)

He gave you your very own superhero name after he had given you a costume and eye mask of your own.

(You didn’t even ask for one.)

Somewhere along the line, though, his annoying, almost constant attention he had given you had become sort of normal and common place. You began to look forward to talking to him, to hanging out with him. He would text you good morning and talk with you in the darkest of nights over the phone instead of going to bed like the both of you should’ve been. He would let you copy his homework when you just didn’t feel like doing it yourself, and he helped you study up on the areas of school that you just weren’t so good at.

Outside of your friendship, the two of you would work together occasionally when it came to “doing superhero work” (as Peter put it. You preferred to say “doing vigilante work”), practicing both of your abilities or just sparring from time to time: you with your staff and him with his bare hands and his apparent newfound strength.

Needless to say, you always won. 

The two of you had been close. It hadn’t happened quickly – it happened rather slowly, especially because of your cynicism and general mistrust of everyone around you. Peter, however, was different. He had accepted you, even though you had thought that you didn’t deserve his friendship. It was peculiar, especially when you realized that you’d never really had an actual friend before him. You had just found it easier to be alone, where people couldn’t be afraid of the things that you could do. Peter understood. In a strange way, he did. 

He hadn’t really pressed you into becoming friends with him, it had happened naturally. He was dorky, he was nice, he was stupid, he was funny, he was–

Yeah.

You found that you had it bad. You had it really, really bad. It didn’t even make any sense, though. How could you like Peter Parker, of all people?

Peter Parker?

You didn’t know when it was that you realized it. You didn’t know the exact moment when you started having these strange, bubbling feelings for him. Maybe it hadn’t happened at some exact moment. Maybe it was a process, like everything that the two of you had done together led up to it.

You weren’t sure. All that you knew, though, was that you distinctly remember when you began to acknowledge those feelings when he had come over your house one day.

You had been meditating after a particularly stressful day at school. It often occurred that when you meditated, your aura began to bleed through and show up as colors radiating off from your skin, all the while you floated in mid air with your legs crossed over each other in the standard criss-cross style. 

Your aura that day was a sanguine color tinged with orange and green – you were annoyed and stressed, but not flat out angry. There was something or other that had happened that day; you couldn’t remember what it was that had occurred, but you knew that it had annoyed you to absolutely no end. 

Peter had tapped on the window of your bedroom, bringing you out of your meditative stupor and causing you to fall back down onto the bed abruptly with a thump.

You groaned as you opened the window up, allowing him to crawl in through the opening and into the confines of your room while you collapsed back onto your bed tiredly.

“What’s got you beat?” Peter asked nonchalantly while he sat beside you, noticing your temperament.

“I don’t know,” you grumbled under your breath. “I just feel pissy.”

Peter seemed to reflect on that for a moment and asked, “Why?”

“I don’t know,” you repeated, rubbing your eyelids with the heels of your palms. “I just–I don’t know. I need a nap.”

“I’m not stopping you,” Peter shrugged, lying down onto his back beside you. “In fact, I could use one myself.”

And so, the two of you had napped together for roughly two hours, waking up only when you heard your mother’s voice in your head telling you that dinner was ready and asking if Peter wanted to stay over and have dinner with you.

He had said yes, as he often did, and after dinner, the two of you began work on your chemistry homework.

“You balance the equations based off of how many positive or negative ions each element has,” Peter told you, showing you each and every step. Even with his instruction, though, it just didn’t seem to make any sense.

“This is so exhausting,” you finally caved, “Why the fuck do we need to balance elements anyway? It’s not like we’re freaking geneticists or chemists or whoever the fuck does this.”

“It’s not that bad, Y/N,” Peter told you, and you just gave him one of your usual glares. “Okay, okay, maybe it is. But once you get the hang of it, balancing chemical equations are actually really fun.”

“Nerd,” you coughed underneath your breath teasingly, your lips turning up ever so slightly into a smile.

“Hey!” Peter said, “I may be a nerd, but who’s the one that needs this nerd to help them pass the chem test next week?”

“Oh, please,” you waved him off, “I do not need you to help me pass. I could just look into the teacher’s mind to get the answers if I really wanted to.”

“But you’re not gonna do that,” Peter said.

“Yeah? And why not?” you questioned him. “Other than your constant reminder about ‘great responsibility’ and all of that shit.”

Peter closed his mouth, only to open it again. “Because that’s illegal.”

You snort, closing your book shut. “Ah, yes. What would I be convicted of? ‘Yes, officer, she looked into the teacher’s mind to cheat and get all of the answers to the test because she’s apart of a race that has magic in them.’ Totally, Peter, that’s really gonna make a pressing case in court.”

“You’re an awful student,” Peter reminded you, and you beamed.

“Why, thank you!” you smiled, looking straight up into his eyes. You stared at him for a moment and he just looked back at you, and slowly, ever so slowly, your smile began to fall down into a regular, unfathomable expression.

You weren’t exactly sure how the fuck it happened, but before you even knew what was going on, you were pressing your lips to his as though it was something that you had just always done, time and time again previously. 

Peter hadn’t seemed surprised at it, either. He kissed you back with the utmost gentleness that one could possibly ever muster; his fingertips gently caressing the sides of your face as your arms wrapped around the back of his neck. 

The two of you had been at an awkward angle, where you were sitting beside each other, so you quickly remedied that by hopping into his lap and straddling his legs as you continued to keep your lips locked onto his soft, plush pink ones. The both of your mouths just seemed to work alongside each other effortlessly, as if the two of you had been doing this all of your lives. 

It felt new, and strange, and exhilarating, but above all, it felt good. He felt good – reassuring, even, like he was telling you in some peculiar way that he was here and he was going to stay by you. 

The both of your mouths moved against one another kind of like a dance. Or maybe a flower. The longer that he had his lips against yours, the more that your mouth gradually just opened up to his, was the more you became more wrapped up in all of his entirety and all of his warmth. Your lips continued to move against his lips until you felt the feeling of his tongue slowly slip into your mouth as the both of your breathing suddenly turned hot and heavy. The two of you broke away in small intervals only for air, and even then, you continued to go right back to kissing one another in an almost desperate-like fashion, as though the both of you were thinking the same exact thing, that this would never happen ever again and you wanted to make the absolute most of it while you could.

Somewhere along the way, his hands had abandoned holding your face and had slipped down to hold your hips, the warm tips of his fingers gripping onto your curves in a firm yet gentle way, making sure that he wasn’t hurting you or making you uncomfortable in any way, shape, or form.

You weren’t sure how long the two of you were just sitting there like that, kissing one another as though it was the both of your last days on earth, but you distinctly remember how it had made you feel to be kissed by Peter Parker.

It felt fan-fucking- _tastic_. 

The way he held you so close and so securely to his chest made you get dizzy with all sorts of nonsensical ideas of frivolous and wild fancy, having your brain run wild and think that maybe, just maybe, you felt something more for this boy sitting before you and he harbored similar feelings. Could it be true? In the moment, as you made out with him like the teenager you both were, you had definitely believed that it was possible. Hell, anything was possible if he was kissing you like the way he was kissing you at that moment.

Anything.

But then, there was the familiar sound of Peter’s phone going off, which caused the both of you to abruptly crash out of your kiss-filled daze and stumble out of one another’s embrace so that Peter could answer his phone and talk to the only person other than you that actually called him: Aunt May.

While he talked on the phone to Aunt May, you made yourself appear busy by gathering your things together and putting them away one at a time: first your pencils, and then your notebooks, and then your textbook. By the time you were done, Peter was preparing to leave.

“Going so soon?” you teased him, telling yourself that you wouldn’t bring up the kiss if he didn’t bring up the kiss.

He didn’t.

“Yeah, Aunt May’s like, five minutes from freaking out and calling the cops or something, so…” Peter said as he slung his backpack back over his shoulder. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you told him. “Tomorrow.”

When he was gone, you glanced over at the clock as you raised a finger to your still kiss-flushed lips. If you were guessing correctly, you and Peter had been making out for almost an hour.

If it had ever really happened at all.

After the first incident, while you never talked about it happening, the two of you continued to steal kisses or make out with one another whenever you found yourselves alone together. It was like some nonverbal agreement that the two of you had going, and neither of you seemed as though you wanted to stop. 

Your make out sessions didn’t affect your friendship or your school work; if anything, it enhanced them. You two were closer than ever, and you seemed to be more apt to pay attention when Peter tutored you and helped you when it came to Chemistry. Before you knew it, you were solving and balancing chemical equations like a pro, and truth be told, it really was fun once you got the hang of it.

You hadn’t known that you were completely and totally falling for him until it was too late, until you had been recruited by the one and only Captain America for your unique skills asset.

“What?” you had asked him. “Why, exactly, are you bringing _me_ into this?”

“You want anonymity,” he had told you. “You don’t want people to know what it is that you can do, and you don’t want to be feared for being what you are. The Registration Act would force you to give up that anonymity. You wouldn’t be able to do anything without the government’s consent. Your life would be run by people that don’t understand a single thing about, well, your people.”

You had blinked slowly, looking up at the tall blond man and raised an eyebrow. “And where exactly do _I_ come into this?”

“Well, you,” Captain America said your superhero name, causing you to feel a bubble of some type of emotion you couldn’t exactly pinpoint, “Are going to fight for what you think is right. And I hope that that’s on our side.”

“I don’t want to choose a side, though,” you told him. “I wanna remain anonymous. I don’t want to have to choose.”

“And that’s alright,” he told you. “It’s just that there’s a lot of superpowered people out there who feel the same way as you do. And I’m sure that they need someone to fight for them so that they can stay anonymous, just like you want to.”

He had then told you that he’d give you some time to think about it, if you wanted, but you knew that that didn’t matter. You could already sense from his aura that what he was saying was true, and that he, himself, was genuine. 

Plus, you really didn’t feel like having to move and go into hiding again with your family.

“I’m in,” you told him, and he nodded, a smile passing his lips as he struck out a hand and shook yours with it.

“Nice to have you on board, Y/N,” he said and you sucked in a breath.

“When, exactly, is this gonna be over, though? I still have school and stuff–” you began, “AP Lit test on Tuesday, actually, so, uh…”

“You’ll be free to go before then, I promise,” the blond haired super soldier told you, and you smiled.

“Great!” you exclaimed, not even thinking for a second about what – or rather, who – else you’d be leaving behind on this impromptu trip.

Peter.

It turned out, though, that you hadn’t needed to worry about leaving him behind, because suddenly, there he appeared on the scene as Tony Stark’s secret weapon.

“What the fu…” you mumbled softly to yourself as you stood beside Scarlet Witch, who harbored similar, yet distinctly different abilities to your own. 

He hadn’t seen you. Not yet, at least. 

Within seconds, you had turned yourself invisible, blending into nothing so that he wouldn’t have to see that the two of you were on opposite sides.

As the fighting commenced, thoughts of whatever it was that the two of you had ending filled your mind, making you clearly unfocused. You had remained invisible for the majority of the fight so as not to garner attention from the opposite side – and so that Peter wouldn’t see you clearly going against him, but using up q portion of your abilities so that you could remain invisible was clearly transferring itself to your fighting abilities. Your aim was off, your head often throbbed, and, before you knew it, you just gave in and made yourself completely visible as you found yourself reaching to your back to grab hold of your staff from the staff holder, swinging it in your hands as you stood face to face with Peter.

You knew, just by the way his wavelength suddenly slowed at seeing you, you knew that he clearly hadn’t been expecting you to be there. He obviously hadn’t been expecting to even see you, here, of all places.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice sounding boyish as always, only this time with a hint of evident surprise in it. “What are–what are you _doing_ here?” he asked you, and you grit your teeth.

“I’m fighting for what’s _right_ ,” you told him, channeling your magic power into your staff. “What are _you_ doing here?”

“ _I’m_ fighting for what’s right,” Peter said, and you narrowed your eyes down at him.

“How’s that?” you asked as you began to circle around him slowly yet surely, placing one foot in front of the other as you stared him down.

“Uh, Tony’s right, Cap’s wrong?” he said, and for a brief moment, for the absolute briefest of moments, you felt your heart pound erratically at just hearing his nonchalant voice.

“No, he isn’t,” you told him. “Do you even know what Stark’s trying to accomplish?”

“Uhh, not really,” Peter said, and you rolled your eyes. “All I know is that Cap and his team are breaking the law, and that everyone with him are basically criminals now.”

Criminals.

Criminal. You were a criminal. An outcast. 

Again.

At least, unless you did something about the way this cookie was crumbling and fought to make this right. 

“Maybe,” you told him. “Even then, that doesn’t matter. I’m still gonna do this.”

“But–but _why_ , Y/N?” He asked you, and you might’ve been mistaken, but you could’ve sworn that you heard…a sort of panic in his voice? “Why would you–”

_Why would you go against me?_

You heard him in your head, even though you hadn’t wanted to. You’d been great at blocking out other people’s inner voices, especially Peter and all of his sporadic, asinine thoughts. Why was it, then, that you had heard that?

“It’s nothing personal,” you remarked. “Really, it isn’t. I’m just trying to keep my family and myself from becoming criminals just because of what it is that we are.” As you twirled your staff once more, feeling the familiar hum of magical energy buzzing through it, you asked, “We’re still cool, though, right?”

Peter took a second and a half to respond, and in that span of time, you panicked in a thought that maybe this was the end for you both. Maybe he wouldn’t want to be whatever you two were anymore? Maybe he thought that it’d be best if you two just went your separate ways after all of this?

“Totally!” he replied, and you felt a wave of relief wash over you.

“Good,” you smirked, “Then I don’t gotta hold back.”

And then you fired a shot of the pent-up magical energy that had flooded through your staff directly at his chest, causing him to practically fly backwards. He tumbled several yards away from you before you faded back into thin air, keeping yourself concealed from him as you turned your attention to fight elsewhere.

Maybe he hadn’t known that he would be fighting you. He knew how powerful you were, and you knew his fighting style. You could probably take him down just like that, but you decided against it. You weren’t really feeling up to causing any more injury to him than you already had.

By the time the fighting had been over, and Captain America had flown off with his targeted assassin friend, you were left behind, still staring at the broken and ruined airport before you. Had your side won? Had Peter’s side won? Truthfully, you couldn’t tell. The damage and detritus that was strewn all along the vicinity made you wonder.

You couldn’t exactly stay in Germany, though. With a wave of your staff, and a soft pass of words from your lips, you found yourself back in your room in New York, with the sound of your parent’s feet moving about in the room’s beside you.

“Sweetheart! Dinner’s ready!” you heard your mother call, and you heaved a groan as you stood upright onto your feet.

“Coming!” you shouted as you ran a hand through your hair, making sure to appear at least somewhat presentable.

The weekend passed fairly quickly, with you landing right back in school where you had always been. It was just another Monday – dreary, tiring, and boring as always.

Except one thing was different. Peter wasn’t at school.

Okay, yes, technically you should’ve been beyond worried. If you hadn’t been at the battle in Germany, you would’ve called him and probably would have ditched school just to go see him.

As it was, though, you felt as though you couldn’t. You felt that you and him weren’t alright, even though he had told you that the two of you were. You felt like you had betrayed him in some way, even though you were just taking a stand for what you believed in, even if Peter didn’t believe in that.

You were just doing what you thought was right, just as Peter had been.

So, you didn’t call him during school. You didn’t text him. You didn’t even search in your mind to see if he was even at home, because you just felt that guilty. 

Even once school let out for the day, you didn’t text, call, or think about him. You sort of felt like you were disturbing his privacy in some way, and you didn’t want to do that in any way, shape, or form. (Which didn’t make much sense, since Peter was practically the king of invading other people’s privacy.)

It wasn’t until after dinner, when you noticed that your aura during your daily meditation was a dark blue, that you decided to suck it up and just go face him like a woman.

And so you did.

You appeared outside of his apartment door before you even had the chance to really think about it. You had knocked three times before you noticed the fact that you had just done that. What if he and Aunt May were asleep? It would be beyond rude of you to knock at this hour, disturbing their entire household just because you felt like shit–

“Y/N!” Aunt May greeted you, wrapping her arms tightly around your torso as she opened the door wide. “I am so glad to see you! Peter has just been so down in the dumps all day.”

“He has?” you asked as you raised an eyebrow curiously. 

Aunt May nodded as she let you in, closing the door behind you. “I don’t know why, though. He isn’t talking to me about it. If you ask me, it’s probably because of all of that teenaged boy angst he has inside of him. He barely even touched his food at dinner.”

“Huh,” you murmured. Was Peter really feeling as bad as you were? That didn’t seem like him at all. You could barely imagine Peter being “down in the dumps”, let alone having “teenaged boy angst”.

“Could you talk to him?” Aunt May asked you. “He won’t listen to me, but he might just listen to you.”

“Why–why would he listen to me?” You asked her, and she gave you a look that meant something along the lines of 'are you serious?’

“Because that boy’s head over heels in love with you?” Aunt May asked, and you almost snorted.

“Oh, no, no,” you told her. “Peter and I, we’re just friends.”

“Mhm,” Aunt May said with a knowing smile on her face. “And I think that Tony Stark isn’t attractive whatsoever.”

You opened your mouth to say something back, only to find that you had nothing to say. What’d could you say to something like that?

Instead, you just shook your head and went to Peter’s room, pushing the door open as Aunt May gave you a thumbs up behind you.

Peter’s room was small, but it was cozy. It was nice and comforting, the posters and decorations and disparate placing of items and knickknacks everywhere made it evident that someone inhabited the room. It was homey. It was relaxing.

At the moment, though, it was dark, save for the small flicker of lamplight on his desk. Peter was lying face down into his bed’s pillow, his body unmoving and eerily still.

You poked the back of his shoulder. “Yo,” you said before doing it again. “You alive?”

Peter grumbled out some form of words before you knelt down beside his bed just as he turned his face so that he was looking at you. You could see the faintest of bruises dotting his skin, and your voice almost got caught in your throat at seeing how he had gotten hurt during the battle.

“This wasn’t what I wanted,” you told him as you raised your hand to his temple, brushing his hair out of his face as you transferred some of your healing energy over to him. 

“I know,” he replied softly, and you ran your fingers along his soft, porcelain-like skin. The longer you did that, just tracing his face with your finger tips so that you could heal him, the longer he stared at you with his bright brown eyes, until they closed softly one at a time and he let out a soft sigh of peace and contentment. His aura wasn’t confused, or guilty, or blue anymore. He was clear. He was doing better, now that you were there.

Which brought you to wonder: was that clearness really something more? Did he feel something in the same way that you felt something for him?

You leaned in closer to his face and pressed your lips against his ever so gently, almost as if you were afraid of the outcome of what could possibly happen after. As though you hadn’t kissed him a slew of other times before.

Peter’s eyes fluttered open, his dark eyelashes beating up so that his brown eyes could look into your y/e/c eyes.

“I love you,” you said softly, with a hint of some sort of sadness in your voice. The corners of your lips turned up slightly in a smile and you said, “I really, really do.”

“What?” Peter asked flusteredly. “Like a–like a, uh, a brother? Or a, uhhhh, a friend, or something?”

You giggled softly to yourself and shook your head, pulling away from him and sitting back onto your heels. “Last I checked, I wouldn’t kiss my brother.”

Peter’s mouth gaped into a rounded 'o’, and for a brief moment, you almost felt bad for how absolutely confused he was. 

But, no. You weren’t going to feel bad. Not for this. Not for feeling the way that you did.

“Are you–are you serious?” Peter asked, “Are you just saying this because you feel bad that you kicked my ass at the airport a few days ago, because you don’t need to feel pity for me or my feelings about you–”

“No,” you told him. “I don’t feel pity. I just want you to tell me about those feelings that you have about me.”

Peter seemed to realize what it was that he had said, and your smile breaks out into a grin. “I mean that–uh–”

You laughed and said, “It’s okay. You don’t have to say it if you’re too scared to.”

“I’m not scared!” Peter said, almost like he was pouting.

“Okay, then, if you say so,” you told him simply, raising your shoulders in a shrug. “I just don’t wanna force you into doing something you don’t wanna do, that’s all.”

“I wanna tell you, though!” Peter exclaimed, sitting upright, suddenly impassioned. “I love you, Y/N! Got it? I love you!”

Your heart felt too big for your chest at that moment, and you smiled once more. “I love you, too, Peter.”

“And I wanna be your boyfriend!” He told you, “I wanna go out on dates with you, and kiss you all the time, and listen to that weird music you listen to–”

“Hey!” you reach out a hand and smack him playfully. “It’s not weird.”

“And I just–I just really, really, really wanna be with you, Y/N,” he confessed, now sitting down in front of you from where you were on the floor. “I want to always be with you. I wanna kick butt with you.”

“You already do,” you interjected.

“Fine,” he told you. “I wanna kick even more butt with you.”

“Fair enough,” you told him with a nod of your head.

“And I want you to kick my butt because you are so fucking good at it!” Peter said, causing you to laugh yet again at just how strange he was. “I’m serious! When you shot at me with your staff a few days ago, it hurt so fucking much but it was so freaking cool!”

“I–I’m sorry…?” you apologized confusedly, but Peter just waved it off.

“I wanna do any and everything with you, even listen to you go on and on and on about those books that you always read that I can honestly care less about,” he continued. “Because you just mean that much to me. And I’d understand if you don’t wanna be with me, because I am a handful, I will admit, but I just wanted you to at least consider–”

“Peter!” you tell him, your voice showing signs of your laughter. “I already said I loved you. I think it’s kind of a given that I want to be with you.”

Peter’s eyes grew larger and he asked, “Really?” You nodded. “Seriously?!”

“Yes!” you laughed as he lifted you off of your feet, spinning you around in the air happily. “Put me down, I’m too heavy-!”

“No, you’re not!” He exclaimed, clearly still ecstatic at this new step in your relationship. “You’re perfect, Y/N, just perfect.”

When he finally did let you down, you both were out of breath from laughing so much. You leaned into Peter tiredly and pressed your lips back against his, kissing him as though it were the first time.

When you broke away for a quick moment, the two of you just stared into one another’s eyes, almost like you were getting lost in his brown eyes and he was getting lost in your y/e/c ones.

The next words were obviously going to be said, and it still brought a smile to the both of your faces at just simply hearing those three words uttered yet again. 

“I love you.”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed!!


End file.
